The Hard Way
by Tilinn
Summary: A girl falls into Middle-Earth. It's a little different this time.
1. Chapter 1

She hung in the air for a while. Then she fell. She fell, unseeing, unhearing, feeling but the tug of gravity. Then she felt the touch of cold air upon her skin; she heard the sharp sound of wind. She fell – without a thought in her mind.

She hit the ground. There was a dull thud, a sharp pain in her side, and a sharper pain shooting through her head. Then there was nothing at all.

---

She woke to the gentle pitter-patter of rain. She lay motionless for a while, eyes shut. She felt numb, dazed, cold. Pain spread dully through her flank; she rolled aside, away from the sharp stone upon which she had fallen, and which still bit into her ribs. The earth was damp beneath her; wetness was seeping through her clothes.

She sat up dizzily and opened her eyes. About her trees grew sparsely on a rocky hillside; a fine drizzle fell steadily and a cool breeze blew, whistling through the branches, snatching away dead leaves. She could not remember from where she had come. She felt feverish. She stood up shakily. Every forest must come to an end. There must be someone, somewhere. She began to walk downhill.

---

For how long had she been walking ? Hills rose gently after hills, and there were mist-clad mountains in the distance; trees gave way to heath and heath gave way to trees and still it rained. Her damp, cold clothes clung to her body. She felt ravenously hungry. She had come across a small brook some time before, and had not hesitated long. She had fallen on her knees beside it; the water had been chilly but she had quenched her thirst, drinking avidly, clumsily.

Night had begun to fall. She felt tired but she did not dare stop; and she did not dare call for help, for once as she walked she thought she had seen some trail – earth and rocks beaten, branches broken by some inhuman, mineral force that cut its way dumbly through the forest. Once also she had started in fright as in the shade some monster grinned wickedly at her; but then as it did not move she had looked closer, and seen that it was but a strangely shaped rock in the likeness of some huge, crudely hewn man with a rough eroded face.

---

Her resolve left her suddenly, like a candle snuffed out by the cold autumn wind that blew upon the hills. She leant upon a tree and crumpled against its side. When she tried to rise again, gripping its trunk to steady herself, her legs folded under her. She closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around herself; and then, in spite of cold, hunger and discomfort, she fell asleep instantly.

---

Her own shaking woke her as she lay curled on her side upon the damp, rocky earth. The rain seemed to have abated; it was still night but when she raised her eyes she saw that above the hill the sky was lightening, and that against it in the pale, grey light of dawn she could begin to make out the darker shapes of trees.

She felt stiff, her cold fingers ached as she uncurled them, and she did not feel much less exhausted than before she had fallen asleep, but she did not feel so hungry now. Her scalp throbbed dully; she raised her hand to her head and brought back sticky blood clots. Then she pushed her messy hair out of her face with dirty fingers and rose, gritting her teeth against the sharp pain that shot briefly into her numb legs.

When she began walking again she felt slightly light-headed. Walking downhill felt like falling. She walked on, stumbling, her body stiff yet loose and perhaps not quite hers; she walked on, strangely unafraid.

---

Day and night and day and again and she walked. Sometimes she knew she was walking on her own tracks, going to places she had already seen before, but she could not seem to find the way; each hill resembled the next, and the twisted trees seemed to shift before her; and still the sky was grey and hid even the sun from her sight.

At night she cast herself upon the ground where she was and slept like a wild animal; in the end she did eat herbs and roots, not caring for poison, eating clumsily and voraciously although it never quite soothed the ache in her stomach. Her clothes were wet and muddy; her body bathed in rain and sweat; her hands and face dirty.

And still she stumbled on.

---

One night as she lay upon the ground in exhaustion it occurred to her that although she did not know this place, and did not know from where she had come, and could not even have said who she herself was, she might very well die here, a lonely and nameless creature; and for the first time since she had woken in this land that was not her own, she cried out. It was a hoarse, animal cry, let out in spite of herself. She stifled it and strove to flee from she knew not what, first on all fours and then rising shakily, walking on wobbly legs, falling and rising again. She ran into darkness and branches lashed at her.

At dawn she collapsed. Then she heard the sound of hooves.


	2. Chapter 2

At dawn she collapsed. Then she heard the sound of hooves. 

She heard the sound of hooves, like a swift, sudden gale of wind upon the sea. Then she saw them: two horses and two riders with long hair and bright, otherworldly eyes. She cowered in terror; they saw her and came to halt – a wave of light crashing upon the shore. Their eyes pierced her as they sat tall and menacing above her; in fear and wonder and without thinking she reached down to catch a stone to defend herself, but even as she bent the ground swam before her eyes and she swayed. When she raised her eyes she saw that one had drawn and bent his bow, and that an arrow was pointed at her, and saw the taut bowstring; and she caught sight of a drawn sword. Then she lowered her eyes again before the piercing light of their gaze.

One spoke to her in a language that she did not understand; his voice was demanding and stern, and yet melodious; and although she did not understand she felt strangely awed and moved – as by some ancient, distant music woven into the unknown words. Then he spoke to her in what seemed to be another tongue – one that was harsher, and yet suffused by a faint, musical lilt. They were demanding something of her, questioning her – this much she could understand, but the words themselves meant nothing to her. She kept silent, but slowly drew her arms away from her body, showing herself to be unarmed, and raised her eyes in silent plea.

Now the two men spoke briefly amongst themselves; soon one of them dismounted, and came towards her, pulling his horse with him. He gestured, and spoke to her – not unkindly but still with an air of grimness and stern command. She perceived that perhaps he meant for her to climb upon his horse, and indeed when she tried to do so, and her diminishing strength failed her, he helped her up, and then climbed himself before her.

Then they were gone, riding fast; with one hand she clung hard to the saddle, and dared grab the fine fabric of the rider's cloak with the other. The wilderness sped by their horses' hooves, and they went from hill to hill in the grey morning. Her bones seemed to shake within her flesh as they rode, and the world grew dull about her. She closed her eyes and was lost.

Then she woke again, held loosely in one of the riders' embrace. As in a daze, bewildered and faint, she saw a forest of tall pines; then they rushed into a dark crevice of red stone; and then with a flash they rode into the open again; and a river appeared before them, glowing whitely in the shade (for she could see now that they had ridden East towards the mountains.) Then with barely diminished speed they forded it, pale foam rising to meet the white coat of the horses. On they rode, from a rocky shore up a steep brown bank.

They rode into the mountains, that rose dark and green about them as they came into the end of some narrow valley, and she gazed dizzily up at the heights, that were wreathed in white morning mist. Before them some higher peaks stood distant and black, and melted into clouds. They rode on, and the mist closed about them.

Then she heard rushing water, first a soft muffled sound, and then louder; and then in it she thought she heard dim echoes, a clear tingling of bells to herald dawn. She gazed into the mist, and even as she looked it was lifted above the hills and torn in the wind; and beyond she saw the green flanks of great hills, and in the distance the faint outlines of tall, delicate spires, and slender bridges that hung, as it seemed, upon the air.

The first rays of dawn came over the mountains. The mist burned away before her eyes. There were the mountains, blue as smoke in the distance, and a radiant green valley about them; and far away she saw a great house whose many-coloured roofs shone bright and gay in the sunlight. Then she heard and saw no more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Darkness. She lay in warmth and softness. She would never rise. Her head lay half-sunk into a pillow, heavy bedclothes sheltered her. She relished the feel of her own breath flowing without pain in and out of her lungs, watched as a thread wavered to and fro as her breath caught it. She brought up a dirty hand and rubbed her eyes and face, could not quite make herself wake. Her body, warm, loose, exhausted, sunk from her. She fell asleep again.

She awoke, indefinite worry nagging at her heart. She lay in a bed, under a wealth of covers, in a dark, unfamiliar room. Light filtered thinly through closed shutters. Her eyes grew accustomed to the semi-darkness and she began to perceive the contours of the bed, the disposition of the room, a small table in a corner, a basin, a chair, a door and large shuttered windows. She gazed uneasily about her.

A key turned in a lock. The door was opened. She shrank under the covers as though to hide herself. Two men came into the room – men or beings shaped like men, unspeakably alien. One – a tall, fair-haired man – she thought she was among the men that had rescued (captured ?) her; but with him was another, a tall, dark-haired man whom she had never seen.

They strode towards her, and their grace cut her to the quick. They were immensely perilous, she perceived, and terrible in their beauty – and there, perhaps, the greater peril lay. She quaked like a wild animal in the face of something far greater than itself, yet gazed at them in awe until they were too close and she felt she must look away or be blinded.

Again, there were questions in tongues she could not understand; then a hand touched her chin; long fingers forced her to look up into bright grey eyes. In them was a light like the light of stars, yet not soft but piercing like a blade. She heard a clear voice, speaking, singing almost...words of uncovering, revealing. There was the blazing eye of the summer sun at noon, and she was open before its searing brightness. Her innermost recesses were lit and exposed. In some strange way she knew that she could have shut herself from that gaze, had she desired it. But she was still, and withheld nothing. There was little to hide. The light sunk away, behind the trees, a gentle summer light, receding gold.

A cool hand at the back of her head held her sitting up. She opened her eyes. The dark-haired man sat by her, holding her up, looking not through her this time but at her. He tilted her gently towards him; she felt his hand in her hair, his fingertips against her skull, touching the injury she had forgotten. She allowed herself to be examined, looked over his shoulder at the other man, standing against the wall, gazing at her. He was tall; his face, framed by long, golden hair, was perfect and youthful; but there was something ancient about the stillness of his form, his face, his eyes even. She felt as if she were looking at some immense, very distant thing, the sunlit peak of an island upon a flat dark sea.

She was laid back onto the pillow. She dared look at the black-haired man. The light was gone from his eyes, as clear now as running water, as grey as shadows, kind and keen. He seemed less alien now; less perfect than the fair man, if no less beautiful, if no less troubling; she thought she could remember his mind against hers, ancient stars and troubled water, a flying shadow, a gleam.

Later, she lay face down, cheek pressed into a pillow, while he bathed her wound. She watched his long, slender hands, agile and precise as they wrung red-tinted water from a rag; she gazed at the patterns his shirtsleeves made, bunched at the elbow; she lulled herself into sleep listening to the sound of her own breathing. Yes. The air smelled green; a touch upon her head; a whisper; pain falling off her like a veil. She could have wept in relief.


End file.
